


You Left Me In The Dark

by FoxglovePrincess



Series: Your Heart Is The Only Place That I Call Home [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Biting, Childhood Friends, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Marking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Scenting, Sex, Smut, Touch Deprivation - Disease, Touch-Starved, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25337770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxglovePrincess/pseuds/FoxglovePrincess
Summary: When the doctor diagnoses touch deprivation, the reader knows what she needs but decides to try hiding her condition instead. Her childhood friends know something is wrong and are determined to get to the bottom of it.*written in first person with no name assigned, only pet names (kotenok, sweetheart, babydoll). minimal description of reader/narrator appearance, the reader uses female pronouns and has female anatomy.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Jane Foster/Sif/Thor, Steve Rogers/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Vision, hint of Natasha Romanoff/Reader
Series: Your Heart Is The Only Place That I Call Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923169
Comments: 62
Kudos: 795





	You Left Me In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT (9/6/2020): I’ve gone through and proofread the story again and changed some small details (Steve and Natasha’s scents). Everything else is the same.
> 
> Wow! This is different for me. My first ever MCU fic, my first ABO fic, and my first explicit smut all in one story. Not to mention I finished within a week, which is unheard of for me. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Tell what you think in the comments. If I’m missing any tags, let me know (I tried to get everything, but no one’s perfect).
> 
> UnBeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title taken from “Cosmic Love” by Florence + the Machine.
> 
> This work is not to be reposted on any other site without my explicit permission.

It’s happening again. The live music thrums through the bar as I sit with my friends—laughing and chatting with each other over the din of the music. Scents swirl through the air just like the cacophony of sounds, filling the space and creating an atmosphere of relaxed amusement.

Hanging out at the bar—The Tower—on Friday night is our tradition. We spend the week working at our jobs before coming together and catching up while getting _just_ drunk enough to block out the more annoying events of the week. Two friends are conspicuously absent, but their tardiness is so expected, it’s practically a tradition at this point too.

But that is not what grates on my nerves and sets my teeth on edge—it’s the underlying pain radiating through my every pore and the buzzing that plucks at my skin like millions of ants constantly crawling over me. Spikes of sensation, like pinching bites, irritate my nerves as I try to hide my condition and keep my fidgeting to a minimum. Clint continues to regale us all about his interaction with HR after some incident involving a stapler, donut, and copy machine. I chuckle along with everyone else, but I can’t ignore the feeling on my skin—my mind drifting back to my doctor’s concern at my appointment this morning.

_It’s called touch deprivation. It’s fatal for 1 in 5 omegas._

I sigh quietly through my nose as I itch to peel away my skin piece by piece, maybe that would make me feel better. My eyes scan across the table as Natasha smirks at her beta, still telling the story. Her eyes flick toward mine, a question sent my way. I avert my gaze and try once more to focus on what Clint is saying. But my eyes drift to Tony, then Thor, before falling to my lap.

_You need human contact—alphas are best, but betas can help too. Find someone you trust, or visit the local heat clinic. It isn’t too late to recover yet, but it will be soon._

I lean closer to Wanda, feeling her unconsciously shift toward me. Her nose twitches as she turns her attention to me.

“Are you alright? You smell different,” she asks, her accent lilting on each syllable. I shrug and shift in my seat. Her voice drops, keeping my confidence, “You’re not going into heat are you? I have emergency suppressants in my purse if you need them.”

I shake my head and blow an unsteady breath out of my lips. My nails dig into my thighs through my skirt as I struggle to find a response to Wanda, her gaze almost as piercing as Natasha’s.

“And then she said she’d never seen one shaped like that before. Asked if I needed to see a doctor,” Clint finishes with a swig of his beer—thus saving me from responding.

Laughter greets the end of his story as I instinctively flinch at the mention of a doctor, and Natasha takes the segue and turns her full attention to me.

“Speaking of, how was your appointment today?” Her cool green eyes bore into me. I know that my best bet is to lie, but she will instantly see right through it even if I manage to fool the others.

I gulp and clear my throat, “It was enlightening, I suppose.” I scoot away from her, toward the edge of the booth.

“Enlightening,” she echoes, her tone dull with judgement and expectancy.

No one speaks a word, knowing not to get between Natasha and her target. It’s her way. She makes sure she knows everything about her friends— _everything_. It’s how she shows she cares. But I can’t tell them I’m touch deprived. Especially because I haven’t figured out how I’m going to fix it—or even if I can.

It would be hard enough to discuss the fact that I purposely keep a distance from everyone. Hell, the last person I remember hugging me is Wanda when she got really dependent during her heat 6 months ago. I didn’t even initiate it. But she’d met Viz, her alpha extraordinaire, and didn’t need me to help her anymore. I never ask for her help, refusing to become an inconvenience. And I don’t go to clinics for help with my heats, even if they’re clean, healthy, and have great heat plans. It feels wrong to rely on a stranger to help me regulate my cycle—especially when I’ve been pining after a mated pair for years and, in my fucked up brain, going anywhere else would be akin to cheating. So, I handle myself with a pile of blankets, box sets of murder mystery TV shows, air conditioning set on full-blast, and sheer determination to ignore my raging hormones.

And I can’t turn to my alpha friends for help with this new development. It would be poor manners to barge in when they’re all attached. Natasha has Clint, and though he’s a beta, they’re not looking for an omega as far as I know. Tony has Bruce and Pepper—alpha, omega, beta—their trio a completed pack that’s not looking for any new additions. While Thor isn’t yet bonded, and looks like a literal god with long blonde hair and mouth-watering muscles, he is quite content with his arrangement—Sif and Jane, both omegas who are content to share an alpha. And I don’t even think the name of my last alpha friend. Him and his mate are _not_ an option—no matter how much I wish they could be.

It’s not a wonder I found myself in this position. I’m not a touchy-feely person—on the outside. I make sure to keep my personal space very personal and they all respect that. I can’t even remember the last time Thor tried to hug me, and he’s the biggest hugger I know. I both appreciate and despise this purposefully crafted distance I’ve orchestrated in equal measure.

Because on the inside is a whole other story. I am the clingiest motherfucking omega known to man. My limbs are stickier than an octopus when I sleep and when I’m awake I can burrow better than a groundhog digging a tunnel when I want to cuddle—which is every second of every goddamn day. I crave comfort and closeness like I want to breathe. I want to feel small, protected, bundled in my mate’s arms and never let go.

Natasha clears her throat, eyes accusatory as the silence continues to stretch in the conversation. My teeth worry over my bottom lip before I push away from the table.

“Anyone care for a refill?” I ask as I look for takers. I grab out my phone to make a note, completely ignoring Natasha’s disappointed stare.

Thor raises his empty pint and Tony clinks the ice in his tumbler. Bruce shakes his head, hands clasped around his first beer, still half full. Wanda asks for another manhattan and Clint tells me to surprise him. Natasha just glares. I duck my head and turn toward the bar as my heart thuds in my ears. God, I hate disrespecting my friend like that—it hits harder with the alphas. My omega instincts beg me to turn around and apologize whilst simultaneously spilling my guts.

My hands press to the wooden bar as I wait for the bartender, Bobbi, to turn her attention toward me. She saunters over with a smile after finishing with another patron. My nerves ease as she gets closer.

“Hey Bobbi, we need some refills over at our table for Tony, Thor, and Wanda. And then Clint needs a pink passion, if you would please,” I relay with a smile.

Bobbi nods and gets to work, already knowing which bottles to grab—the benefits of being a regular at a local bar and ordering the same thing every time. She places the glasses on a tray for me to carry before adding one more next to the others.

“All your refills, plus one dirty Shirley Temple for you on the house,” Bobbi says as she leans against the bar. I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off instead. “Looks like you can use all the alcohol you can find. Piss off Nat?” I sigh as I glance back at the table.

“Sort of,” I admit before grabbing the tray. With her assurance that she put the other drinks on my tab, I thank Bobbi and deliver them to my friends.

Clint scoffs at the cocktail before leaning back to contentedly sip at his pink drink. I avoid Natasha’s stare—knowing I will most likely yield and bare my throat, both metaphorically and literally, if I acknowledge her right now—as I turn on my heel to replace the tray at the bar.

My hands release the tray with a wave to Bobbi who nods in acknowledgement despite being busy shaking a shaker while flirting her head off for tips. I sigh and drop my head to inhale a few shaky breaths. Turning back to my table, I come to an abrupt halt, a hand grasping my wrist in a firm hold.

The scent of freshly mowed grass and scorching summer sun hits me as I turn to observe the alpha who has me in his grip. My lips part, trying to breath quietly through my mouth as the repulsive scent wafts toward me, churning my guts as bile rises in my throat. The buzzing of my skin crescendoes, gaining strength as he continues to hold me in place.

“Can I help you?” I ask, arching an eyebrow and channeling my best impression of Natasha despite my nerves beginning to unravel.

“Yeah, name’s Jack. You can sit next to me and keep me company,” he says with a leer raking up and down my body. “If you’re lucky, I’ll even keep you.”

I repress a shudder at his tone and try to pull my hand away from him, but his grip remains solid. My jaw clenches as I seethe with quiet anger. My eyes dart to the table where Natasha rises from her seat and Thor’s eyes lock onto the scene. A small snarl distorts his upper lip as he takes in the situation. He mutters something under his breath and both Tony and Natasha nod their head.

I try to calculate what I can say to make this creep release me, when it hits me. The scent of leather and rain envelopes my sense of smell—familiar and comforting, now also laced with acidic rage. An arm reaches around my waist, brushing against my blouse, and gently plucks my wrist from the alpha’s grasp before jerking harshly on Jack’s hand. Something audibly pops and his face crumples in pain.

“Someone should teach you not to touch an omega without permission,” the person behind me growls. I relax at their gruff tone, knowing that I’m no longer in danger with my protector at my back. Jack whimpers and quickly leaves after throwing a handful of bills on the bar top.

A smile breaks over my face as I turn, “Bucky, you’ve made it.”

His eyes remain set in a glare until the door closes behind the alpha who grabbed me. The acidity slowly leeches out of his scent until it vanishes and he smiles at me.

“What? Like we would leave you all on your lonesome with that pack of clowns we call friends,” he replies as he turns to the bar and gestures to Bobbi. She immediately starts getting his drinks. I roll my eyes, but chuckle at his light-hearted gibe.

Bucky stands close to me, so close that every single cell in my body urges me to reach out and just tangle myself with him. Someone passes behind him and he instantly steps forward, crowding closer to me. His scent pours over me and I grasp the bar so I don’t sway, drunk on him alone. Who needs alcohol, right?

His hands reach up to grasp the bar on either side of my body as he leans down toward my neck and takes a whiff. My nose scrunches up reflecting his expression as he pulls away. Confusion sets into his features as he observes my face. His lips part to speak, but I cut him off.

“You’re my knight in shining armor. Thank you, Bucky,” I say, gratitude lacing each word. I look around his muscular arms for the alpha I know will have arrived with him, “where is…” My eyes catch sight of blonde hair and a warm smile. “Steve!” I call out.

His head snaps in my direction and he walks over, smile growing with each step and tension melting away from his shoulders. Bucky backs away from me as he exchanges a long look with his alpha. He wraps an arm around Steve’s waist and draws him close. Steve’s nose twitches as he stops.

He croons my name in greeting, sweet as apple pie. His arms twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t move closer. Oh, I wonder if he was going to give me a hug—I shake my head to force away the thought.

“I was looking for you. You alright?” he asks.

I nod with a grin and turn as Bobbi brings over the drinks for Bucky and, I assume, Steve. They each grab a glass and escort me back to the table, everyone settled now and back to enjoying the evening—well, most of them. Natasha still radiates discontent as she glances at me, but keeps her mouth shut as we arrive back at the table.

“Bucky,” I whine—honest to God, the instincts these boys pull out of me—as he sits in my seat in the comfy booth, leaving me a rickety wooden chair to sit on. “You stole my spot.”

His smirk greets me as he winks and gets comfortable.

I turn to Steve to voice my complaint, pointing an accusatory finger and tone full of indignation, “Steve, your beta stole my spot.”

He chuckles in response—the little shit—and sighs, “Oh well, looks like I’ll have to make up for my mate’s poor behavior.” Before I can think to nod and accept, his arm wraps around my waist and drags me into his lap. “There you go, comfiest seat in the room.”

Shock courses through me, freezing my body but sending my mind whirring, overanalyzing every breath—Steve’s never done something like this before, what is up with him tonight. I start to wiggle uncomfortably and push at his arm—because, God, I cannot trust myself this close to him—but Steve doesn’t relent, just adjusts the way he’s sitting. His scent of coffee and charcoal washes over me, making me scent drunk once again and, for the first time all night, my skin doesn’t feel like it’s ripping away from my muscles. But panic blinks in the back of my mind and grows in my chest as I remain on his lap.

“Steve, what are you doing?” I huff with the most annoyance I can muster at the moment—it’s pathetic, really, how little it actually amounts to.

He’s never this openly affectionate, at least not with me. This kind of behavior he saves for Bucky—his _mate_. I try to breathe deeply and calm my mind, knowing I want to get away from Steve’s lap, but the longer I stay perched, the more my mind spins with emotions I do not have the time to unpack right now and the less urgent my escape becomes.

“Look, just because you almost crushed his spine with a hug in first grade doesn’t mean he’ll collapse if you sit on his lap, doll,” Bucky insists as he raises his pint to his lips with a smirk. “He’s a lot sturdier nowadays.”

“You know what Bucky,” I snipe back with more anger than I feel. “Why don’t _you_ sit on his lap then?”

“Nah, the punk gets too handsy. Why do you think we’re so late?” he replies with a chuckle.

Heat blooms on my cheeks. I glance between him and Steve—the alpha’s ears tinged pink at the tips and a blush matching mine covering his face. But he sends his beta a fake glare and playfully pushes on a solid bicep. Bucky doesn’t even shift an inch.

“Really?” Natasha chimes in, cutting into the conversation and sounding completely unimpressed. I silently thank her as I shake my mind back into some semblance of rational thought. “That’s your excuse this time? You’re not on your game, Barnes.”

He shrugs in response and moves the conversation along. Thor begins to discuss his plans for the weekend—something involving his brother and some quest for glory.

“Are you alright?” Steve whispers as he adjusts his grip around my waist. My eyes focus solely on the people sitting around the table—nope, not looking at him, nope, no, no, no—as I shrug. I glance at Bucky, who’s trying ever so hard to look invested in our friends whilst obviously eavesdropping on my conversation with Steve. “What did the doctor say today?”

A grimace overtakes my face at his question. Of course, he would ask—he practically set up the appointment for me, insisting that I see someone about feeling under the weather. I definitely don’t want to tell him about the results. He’s a mother hen when I get the sniffles. I don’t want to imagine what he’ll do if he finds out about what the doctor recommended.

_If you have someone in mind, a relationship you’re pursing or a close bond with someone, they would be the best candidate to help you overcome this as quickly as possible._

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” I insist.

I squirm a bit and he lets me get off his lap. Excusing myself, I head directly toward the restrooms at the back of the bar. I shake my head to get rid of what my doctor said as her voice echoes through my mind.

The lights flicker against the red walls of the restroom. My hands grip the sink as I stare at my reflection for the millionth time today. I don’t look any different than before, at least _that_ is working in my favor. But Wanda thought I smelled off—so did Steve and Bucky. If any of my friends were to notice something wrong with my scent and decide to confront me about it, it would be the alpha and beta I have known since childhood. Or Natasha. I run my hand through my hair with a frustrated groan.

I turn on the sink, splashing cold water on my face. My mind starts making a list of the things I’ll have to do—make an excuse to slip out early tonight, start wearing scent blockers, research touch deprivation to give myself a window for when I’ll have to start evading them, find out how to conceal the other symptoms—because, if I’m being honest, there are only two friends I would ever let help me. And Steve’s been with Bucky since they presented in high school. They’re perfect for each other. I’ve known since fifth grade they would end up together—though that certainly didn’t stop me from falling in love with them both.

Jump to my broken heart when they showed no interest, even after I presented as an omega. Sure, they’re super protective, and more than willing to barge into my personal space than my other friends, mostly in the pursuit of that protection, but, jeez, that’s only because they’ve known me since forever—and I’m an omega, it’s just instinct.

I remember clearly the night in college when I went to surprise Bucky and Steve with some cookies and overheard them talking to Natasha. ‘She’s just our friend, we don’t want anything more,’ Bucky had said. Steve agreed. And then I knocked on the door whilst trying not to scent like the heartbreak that shattered me.

“So, what happened at the doctor’s today?” Natasha asks.

I jump, so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t even notice her entering. I wipe my hands on a paper towel with a sigh. She stands in front of the door, arms crossed and face stone.

I begin, “I really don’t—”

“Cut the shit,” she interrupts taking a step away from the door.

Her body pushes against mine. The porcelain of the sink digs into my spine yet she keeps advancing—lethal and intimidating as any alpha despite being almost 3 inches shorter than me in her heels.

“You haven’t been able to sit still all night, your hands have been trembling since you got here, your scent is off, and you’re not mentally present. Tell me what is wrong.” She enunciates each word precisely and expects an answer.

Tears well in my eyes as she stares me down. My neck tilts to the side on instinct alone, exposing my throat to her.

“I’m touch deprived,” I whisper in reply.

A beat of silence passes as she processes my confession. Her posture shifts and the tension leaks away.

“Oh, kotenok,” she croons, “you should have told us. We can help you.” Her hands rise and cup my face, tilting it down to stare at her. “How have we let you get to this point?”

I gulp at her rhetorical question and push my face into the hands she’s placed on me. I get a whiff of her apple cinnamon and mahogany scent, smiling softly at how sweet she smells close up. My skin still buzzes and itches, but the sensation dulls the longer she holds me pressed against the sink.

“You need to back off, Romanoff.”

Shock jolts down my spine, pooling dread in my stomach, as my gaze snaps to the door where Steve stands with his hand clutching the doorknob with white knuckles. A glare contorts his face as he stares down our friend, muscles in his jaw ticking and contempt radiating off him in waves. I swear the temperature drops a few degrees as he stands there, unmoving as a mountain.

Natasha stays still, glaring right back. Their scents swirl with challenge and aggression, and I swallow a whimper as it tries to break past my throat.

“This is your fault, you know,” she replies harshly.

A deep growl rumbles in Steve’s chest as he enters the room and forces Natasha back with his sheer presence and will.

“I said, back off.” Steve stands before me and pins me against the sink while still facing Natasha. I rise on my toes, sitting half of my ass on the sink, as my personal space becomes negligible and I have no other choice.

My knees quiver as a shiver rockets up my spine. The thick tension hits somewhere deep in my belly and my breaths become pants as my eyes dart between the two alphas challenging each other. Natasha’s eye flick to the door and back to Steve. I glance as well and see Bucky looming just out in the hallway beyond the door, grimacing at the scene.

With an irritated sigh, Natasha backs down and raises her hands in surrender. She stalks from the room and turns to Bucky. They exchange murmured, hurried words in Russian before she stalks back to our table.

“What was she doing?” Steve’s voice still rumbles and growls as he turns to address me. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye that sets my heart racing.

My instincts shift to fight or flight as he gazes down, analyzing me like a predator spying it’s prey. I sputter and glance at the door, now blocked by Bucky as he waits to listen to my explanation, despite his gaze following our friend’s path as she walks away.

Steve’s fists clench at his sides, “Why was she touching you?” A growl rips from Bucky’s throat as his eyes flash in my direction.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears and my omega screams at me to escape. I’ve never seen the boys so angry. I keep my eyes downcast, trying to cower and convey repentance for whatever slight I’ve committed.

Steve’s hand wraps around the back of my neck, tilting my head level to meet his gaze and squeezing gently. My hand reaches out to grasp at Steve’s shirt—just to keep me upright as my bones turn into a molten puddle of goo. Jesus H. Roosevelt _Christ_ , why is that such a _weakness_? His scent hasn’t calmed and I’m surrounded by burned coffee and toxic ash.

“I,” my voice cracks over the syllable. I swallow my fear and take a deep breath. “Natasha was just trying to help me. That’s all.”

“You’re not her omega.” Fire blazes in Steve’s eyes, his alpha seeing some injustice in the situation and rearing to fight.

I grab the arm that he has wrapped around my shoulders—to keep him in place and not confronting Natasha, mostly, but also because he lets me and I’m not giving up the opportunity for the contact.

“No, I’m not. But I _am_ an unclaimed omega, so she wasn’t doing anything wrong,” I insist, though I’m surprised he can even hear me with my words trailing off into a whisper.

Steve’s eyes pierce through me and he inhales deeply, pulling my scent into his lungs to gauge for any inconsistency or distress.

Breathing out, the tension relaxes in his shoulders, but his hand stays firmly on my nape. He looks away.

He and Bucky communicate in their silent way—risen brows, stern looks, and softening gazes. Incrementally, they each calm down, their scents leveling out until I’m wrapped in leather, coffee, charcoal, and rain—and if that doesn’t just remind me of _home_ , I don’t know what does. My own instincts calm as theirs do, until we’re standing silently in the ladies’ room and I start to fidget out of the oppressive awkwardness.

“Can you let me down, please?” I ask, gesturing to the fact that I’m partially perched on the sink behind me after being pushed so far back. “I don’t feel good and I’m just gonna head home.” I look to both Bucky and Steve for their permission.

Steve releases me with a nod and I keep my gaze on each step of my feet as I rush out of the restroom—only stumbling once on unsteady legs past the sink, thank you very much—and back to our table. Grabbing my purse and coat, I make my excuses. Natasha looks behind me, a spark of worry glinting in her eyes. I wave goodbye to everyone at our table and pay my tab at the bar before leaving.

The chilly air outside sobers me a little as I begin my trek back to my apartment. My mind calms down, but my skin burns like a festering wound. I wrap my arms around myself to try to quell the relentless pain pricking at every nerve ending.

Just as I make it past the first block, a warm arm wraps around my shoulders. I shake my head with a sigh and quiet chuckle when I get a whiff of who it is.

“Jeez, Bucky, what’s your alpha gonna think if you keep cozying up to me like this?” I ask, keeping my frustration out of my tone.

It’s hard enough when I’m prepared to deal with them, but absolutely upsetting when they surprise me—I get no time to prepare myself, guard my heart and straighten out my thoughts. Should have expected an escort, though, my mistake to think they would actually let me walk away.

“I think his alpha will be fine with it,” Steve answers from my other side as his arm wraps around my waist.

They start to guide me away from my path home, turning the corner in the opposite direction of my apartment. I throw off their arms and turn on them.

“Where are we going?” I cross my arms and step away when they attempt to bridge the gap I’ve placed between us.

“We’re taking you home.” Bucky shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. When my hand raises to point back in the actual direction of my apartment and my lips open to protest, Bucky cuts me off, “Our place. You’re the one who said you weren’t feeling well. You know how Steve gets.”

I sigh and peek at Steve who stands with his arms crossed. I nod resignedly and turn back toward the direction of their brownstone—knowing I’ll never beat his mulish nature, even if they can’t help me. Steve strides in front of me, leading the way and Bucky wraps his arm around my shoulders once more.

“Why am I friends with you guys again?” I mutter into Bucky’s shoulder, relishing the closeness as much as my heart breaks with each breath. “You’re too pushy and you never leave me alone.”

“You love us,” Bucky teases.

I roll my eyes only for the chance to avert my gaze and sniff away the tears that begin to well up, “Yeah, right.”

*

By the time we arrive at their home, I’m mentally exhausted but determined to thwart all attempts Steve is going to make at figuring out what’s wrong with me.

Steve takes my coat and purse, hanging them on a hook by the door. Bucky walks through to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water for me. I mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ as I take the glass and head to their living room.

The afghan laying across the back of the couch calls to me and I wrap it around my body, building a makeshift nest with their pillows. I burrow into the corner of their couch and wait for them to join me. The pain surges back, like a low-grade fever, building the longer they’re away from me. My eyes jump around the room, taking in the little familiar decorations that have always been here, trying to distract myself.

They share a muted conversation that I can’t quite decipher, standing just outside the room, but I catch glimpses of them embracing in the hallway. My eyes look away and I start to pick at the pilled yarn on the blanket while I sip small mouthfuls of water.

They enter their living room and spot me in my little nest. Steve’s eyes soften as he stares at me. Bucky immediately walks over and presses as close as he can to the pillows surrounding me. Steve paces before the fireplace, a stern look morphing his features.

“Tell us what the doctor said,” he commands.

My fingers play with the rim of my cup as I contemplate the way to word it.

Steve turns on me as I stay silent, “How bad is it?”

I shrug—which, technically, is the truth—not quite sure how bad they’ll think touch deprivation is. Bucky scrutinizes my every movement, his gaze heavy. Steve puffs out his chest, taking a step forward and I know he’s about to lose his patience with my stalling tactics.

“Like I said before, it’s nothing you guys need to worry about,” I insist placing my cup on the side table. I scramble for one detail to appease them enough to get them off my case. Words spill out of me as the pressure rises. “I mean, I just need to make an appointment at the local heat clinic for a consultation. It was something my doctor recommended for my recovery.”

“Recovery?” Bucky questions at the same time Steve growls out, “the clinic?”

“You don’t use the clinic for your heat,” Steve states as he approaches. He perches on the edge of their coffee table and leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. I shrink back into the corner of the couch, just to keep some space for my own sanity. “Do you?” His gaze narrows on me and all my omega wants to do is appease him.

“You know I never have, I handle it on my own,” I reply.

Steve takes my statement and the tension eases in his shoulder minutely. He looks to the ground, body turning rigid as the minutes continue to tick by.

“Then why do you need a consultation at the clinic?” he asks.

His hands run through his hair, mussing the usual style until it’s unkempt—and utterly adorable, I _love_ when he does that. My brow furrows as I watch my friend try to piece together what could possibly be wrong. I bite my lip as we stare at each other.

I can’t tell them because they’ll want to help. They’ll insist on it. And I can’t let them—no matter how much I want to. Steve looks completely torn apart as he waits for me to answer. My omega cries out for his alpha. But I _can’t_. A whimper escapes my throat and I bury my head in my hands.

_When an omega in your condition turns to one specific alpha or beta, there is a higher likelihood that the bonding process will automatically engage as you recover, especially if the relationship is already a close one._

“Are you dying?” Bucky whispers. He speaks so quietly I almost don’t catch his question.

I peek between my fingers to see his blue eyes watering and devastation lining his features. He leans close, looking intent to bundle me in his arms and drag me away from my makeshift nest.

“Not exactly,” I hedge.

A choked sound reaches my ears, but I can’t tell who it’s from. I don’t look up. My shoulders deflate under the blanket and I try to cover myself more, to hide from their gaze. I know they want an explanation, but that’s treading too close to actually telling them.

But the explanation spills from my mouth nonetheless, “The mortality rate is 1 in 5, but my doctor says that I have a good chance of recovery. I just need to start the process of treatment.”

“What kind of treatment do you need?” Steve asks. His hands reach for mine, but I keep them buried in the stitches of the afghan. He sets his hands on my thighs, fingers digging into my skin before releasing his grip, his warm hands staying in place. “We’ll get it for you. No matter what, we’re not losing you.”

A wry smile breaks across my face—this is exactly how I thought they would react.

“You can’t help me,” I reply.

“Try to stop me,” Steve rebuts.

I sigh. Silence hangs heavy in the air. I blink back tears as Bucky’s and Steve’s gaze stays unwavering on my face.

Through my periphery I see Bucky fidgeting, shifting, a debate playing in his eyes. He huffs out a frustrated breath and surges forward. His arms wrap around me and pull me away from the pillows, setting me in his lap. Long limbs encase me as if he wishes to become my nest. A needy whine pushes past my lips and his simultaneously as his nose skims the column of my throat.

“Let me go, please,” I beg as I push against Bucky’s chest. “You can’t—you can’t hold me right now.” His grip tightens and he shoots a look toward his mate. Mirroring his gaze, I look to see Steve’s reaction. He sits, hands gripping his knees, unreadable expression on his face. “Bucky, just let me go.”

Bucky scoffs, “I’m pretty sure that’s not happening. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re fully recovered.”

Steve nods his head in agreement. His hand reaches out to rest on his mate’s neck.

“What do you need for your treatment?” Steve asks, pressing once more for an answer that I’m reluctant to give.

His form combined with Bucky’s hold encase me in their scent, their comfort. Distress leaks into my scent, I’m sure, as I try to figure out what to say.

“You can’t help me.”

“Stop saying that!” Bucky growls. He jostles my body in his arms, as if shaking away my persistence.

“It’s true! You don’t want to bond with me, so you can’t help!” I cry in exasperation as Steve stands and looms over Bucky and I. He pauses at my exclamation, confusion crossing over his face. “I’m touch deprived and if you help me…” My voice trails off as I realize what I’ve revealed.

The blood drains from my face as panic sets in. I squirm and push and thrash about, trying to stand. Steve wrangles my flailing arms as Bucky locks down my legs.

“Stop, sweetheart, please,” Steve implores.

My body stills as the instinct to fight drains out of me. He once more stands straight and catches the eye of his mate. With a firm nod, Bucky shifts beneath me and I find myself hoisted into the air.

Steve holds me against his side, arm sturdy under my thighs, carrying me on his hip as he walks out of the room. My arms and legs clinging to the alpha for dear life—praying he doesn’t drop me. Bucky saunters behind us, a determined, but excited expression plastered on his face.

The rooms pass by as Steve carries me up the stairs and turns into their bedroom. He places me on the bed, sitting on the edge as Bucky crawls next to me. The beta’s fingers find their way into my hair, combing through and playing with the strands.

Why they’ve brought me into their room, I have no idea—though I’m definitely not complaining one bit. Maybe for my comfort? For privacy? For some reason that coincides with the looks they keep shooting each other?

“You’re touch deprived,” Steve states. I nod. He sighs—though what kind of emotion lies behind it, I couldn’t say. “I’m guessing the treatment, then, involves a lot of touching?” I nod again, a bit dazed and completely unwilling to jinx the moment when I’m laying beside Bucky _in their bed_. Steve shifts as his scent sours like lemons. “And you were willing to go to a stranger or Natasha before me.”

I open my mouth to respond, a thousand excuses forming in my head. Natasha confronted me alone in the bathroom. I didn’t know how she was going to react when I told her. The fact that she took it upon herself to bridge the distance and touch me was wholly unexpected. Going to the clinic was something my doctor recommended. It was safe and medically sound to use the service of the alphas there for touch deprivation treatment. It was an option. One that I wasn’t even really considering.

But Steve’s hand clamps over my mouth before I can utter a syllable. His eyes burn bright and his lips tilt down in a frown. Bucky continues to comb his fingers through my hair, and that is just about the only thing that keeps me calm as burning coffee overtakes his scent.

“Apparently, we haven’t been clear, then. I apologize, sweetheart, that was our mistake. We should have let you know—this never should have happened. But hindsight is 20/20,” Steve says with a stiff shrug. He breathes deeply before beginning to climb onto the bed, one knee resting on the edge and the other straddling over me and resting beside Bucky’s. “You’re _ours_.”

My eyes widen at Steve’s proclamation. He lowers his body, letting some of his weight rest atop me. My pulse jumps and my heartbeat flutters as my muscles clench in the best possible way.

“Have been since I saw you on the playground standing up to Billy Russo for pushing Daisy Johnson. But I didn’t wanna push, didn’t wanna force you. My mistake. And I fully intend on fixing it.” Steve lowers his head, scenting heavily at my neck before letting his free hand start to caress up and down my side. He chuckles as I shiver and push against his touch as much as he’ll allow me. “Anything to add, Buck?”

Bucky’s leg loops under Steve’s and over mine as he presses to my side. I gasp as he pushes as close to me as possible and yet still tries to get closer—as if to make us one entity—the beginnings of his desire hardening against my hip.

Steve’s lips descend to kiss and lick at my scent glands. A choked gasp bursts from me and I feel the alpha smirk against my neck. I turn my head from him, giving him more access and locking eyes with Bucky. It burns to see the hungry glint in his eyes as they rake over my face. Heat pools in my belly, the beginnings of arousal starting to form.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for Steve to finally admit this, babydoll, to claim you as ours,” Bucky breathes, his lips caressing my temple.

His hands begin to explore with Steve’s as I try to remain lucid enough to listen to what’s being said—and work out what the hell is actually happening, part of me thinking this has to be a dream.

“Known since before I presented it would be you and Stevie. When you didn’t come to us after you presented, Steve said we had to wait until you realized where you belonged. Could barely stand it. And when I would see other people touch you—I would have ripped that alpha’s throat out tonight just for laying a hand on you.” His gravelly voice sparks desire, heavy and intoxicating, as I lean closer to him on instinct. “And tonight, we were finally gonna…”

Bucky breaks off in a whimper as Steve’s hand snakes to his nape and squeezes. Bucky pulls away from me, only by inches. The two mates exchange a look that conveys apology and forgiveness all at once—for time wasted and words unsaid. Their heated gazes draw them together, exchanging a passionate kiss, fighting for dominance until Steve takes the lead. Bucky’s hands come to rest just under my breasts, thumbs caressing the swell of flesh, as the two languidly kiss each other. My mouth dries at their beauty, the sharp angles of their jaws, their pillowy lips, the little noises that seem to escape their throats without their notice.

My last brain cell manages to cling to the only coherent thought that zips around my brain, “But you told Natasha…”

The words crumble in my mouth before I can speak them. They break apart and gaze down, chests heaving, but attention directly centered on me.

I lick my lips and try again, “You told Natasha that you had no interest in me.”

The mood breaks, Steve’s brow narrowing as he pulls away from his beta.

“When?” Steve asks as if the word curdles on his tongue, spitting out his question with disgust and confusion.

“Second year in college, in your dorm one night, we were going to study together, I brought cookies over,” I explain trying to think back to details that might spark their memory—seriously taxing my ability to form coherent thought when I was underneath them, ready and willing for them to pull me under the waves of desire. “She was talking about how you’d known me for years, that I was a nice omega—”

“Sharon,” Bucky interjects.

“What?”

“She was talking about Sharon,” Bucky explains. “She went to high school with us. Remember, Peggy’s cousin?” I nod as the image of a pretty blonde comes to mind. “Natasha was trying to set us up with any omega she could find so she could get to you. Didn’t let her get very far, though. Made it pretty clear that we wouldn’t forgive her interference.”

“But that’s—” I stop talking as I look to Steve who has a look of understanding on his face.

His eyes soften as he caresses the side of my face. He pulls me close, our lips a hair’s breadth away, “you thought we didn’t want you.”

The words break every last reserve of emotion as a sob cracks open the floodgates and tears spill from my eyes. His lips descend on mine in a sweet kiss. Tension evaporates in the air as he parts from me.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve coos in regret.

He presses kisses across my cheeks, my forehead, my eyes before leaning back as Bucky cradles my jaw and tilts my gaze toward him. The beta eases forward to capture my lips.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, “We’ve always wanted you, babydoll. We _love_ you.”

A laugh bubbles out of me as I think of the years I spent pining after two men who were just waiting on me. I wipe my eyes and wait for the surreal giddiness to dissipate before speaking again.

“I’m an oblivious idiot,” I mutter.

Bucky snorts in response, but Steve makes an affronted noise in the back of his throat. I shake my head.

The two mates once again exchange a glance before Bucky scoots away from the edge of the bed, dragging me with him so Steve can rest on my other side and cocoon me between them. Intimate warmth radiates between us and it takes all my self control not to burst once more into tears—how dare these boys make me so weepy when I was so ready to have them ravish me.

We remain quietly locked in our embrace as minutes tick by. I feel lighter than I have in years, the weight of unrequited pining cast aside, draining away with each breath, being replaced by unadulterated yearning. My fingers begin to twitch, itching to explore their skin. It’s a desire that builds to become a need that I fight against with each breath.

As if reading my mind, Steve’s hands grasp mine and guide them to Bucky’s chest.

“He’s so handsome, isn’t he, omega?” Steve whispers, retracting his hands to let me explore. I nod, wordlessly as my breath hitches in my throat.

A ragged breath breezes past Bucky’s lips as he remains still. My fingers glance over his neck and the bite mark that signifies his bond to Steve. The raised skin almost glows silver in the light of the bedside lamp. A shudder rolls through the beta’s body as I press gently on his marked gland and move my fingers up his neck. The stubble on his jaw scratches over my fingers as they drift to explore the lines of his face. His breathing stutters as his arms pull me closer.

Bucky stops my hands by grasping them in one of his and pressing a kiss to my fingertips. “How do we treat your touch deprivation? What do you need, omega?” He asks, lowering my hands and releasing them.

I turn my attention to Steve and my body follows with me. My fingers start to trace his nose and then his lips. Wonder shines bright in his eyes as he lets me do as I like. Bucky uses his opportunity to brush my hair away from my neck and nuzzle his nose into my scent gland. My fingers alight on Steve’s mark, following the imprint of Bucky’s teeth.

“Tell us what we need to do to help, omega,” Steve murmurs.

My mind breaches the fuzzy, floaty sensations of contentment as I think back to my doctor’s explanation of the treatment process.

“Dr. Cho told me there were three phases to recovery,” I say trying to wrack my brain for the specifics. “The first phase requires near constant contact for at least 10 hours a day of my waking time and all hours I spend sleeping. An alpha presence is best, but betas can also have a calming effect for short periods of time.”

“Done,” Steve agrees. “You’ll stay here and we’ll all work from home.” A small smile quirks at the corner of my mouth at his easy acceptance. “Anything else?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I blush, “s-skin to skin contact has the most effective results.” My teeth worry over my bottom lip as I avoid looking at the men surrounding me.

Bucky slips away from my back. I look over my shoulder to see him tossing his shirt across the room. Eyes raking over his sculpted chest, I don’t give a thought to the fact that I’m ogling him—God, he could be in a museum. A smirk spreads across his face as he unbuttons his jeans, his eyes blazing. I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.

Steve’s disappearance from the bed doesn’t even register until I see him standing beside Bucky, stripping away his shirt and his jeans. Jesus, these boys are trying to kill me. My fist clenches on the pillow beneath my head.

They stand before me in their boxer briefs—that’s it, just small bits of fabric keeping their full form from my view. Though different from one another, their forms are perfectly sculpted like Michelangelo crafted them from marble. My heart stutters and fire burns throughout my body, licking in the most delicious of ways.

I shift on the bed, subtly stretching my muscles and trying to find a comfortable position when everything feels too tight and the buzzing begins to prick at my skin again. My eyes drink them in without an ounce of shame. Bucky takes a step back toward the bed before Steve’s hand stops him, firmly planted in the middle of his mate’s chest, fingers caressing skin as a low growl rumbles in the beta’s throat.

“Your turn,” Steve purrs in a deep baritone.

Tingles form at the top of my spine as the world around me starts to blur at the edges—a phantom sensation of his hand squeezing my neck and bidding for my submission. My body lurches from the bed, eager to comply for the alpha and beta standing before me.

My hands hastily throw off the belt around my waist before attempting to unbutton my blouse. A distressed cry sobs through me as my fingers fumble, unable to clasp the tiny buttons. I drag a breath into my lungs and rip the shirt over my head before forcing my skirt over my hips to the floor. My feet kick off my shoes and they bounce against the wall as they fly away from me.

A chill pebbles my skin as I stand before my best friends in my underwear—boys I have seen through every awkward phase of growing up. My blood vibrates with excitement in my veins as my heartbeat thunders in my ears.

Like a lightning strike, awareness surges through me as I realize they’ve never seen this much of my body uncovered—no one has.

I look up through my lashes to gauge their reaction. Bucky’s lips are parted, wet and shiny, his eyes glazed over with lust. Steve stands still as a statue next to him, pupils blown wide. His fists clench at his sides as Bucky leans into him. Their bodies connect and mold against one another. Bucky’s eyelids flutter as he scents his alpha’s neck.

The silence presses down on us. They take the time to catalogue every minute detail about my body, but I swear my knees knock together and almost give out under my weight.

“I-I’ve never—please don’t—you’ll have to be gentle,” I rush to say, words spilling out while my tongue fumbles over what I need to say. “I’ve never done this be-before.”

Steve surges forward, then, hand cradling my jaw and staring into my eyes. His scent is deep and thick. I lick my lips, wanting more than anything to taste him on my tongue.

“Fucking perfect,” he purrs. “Omega mine, made just for us, and only us.”

Steve’s hands trail down my body, swiping over my breasts, my stomach, my hips, my ass. He grips my cheeks, fingers slipping beneath my underwear, and lifts to place me on the bed.

“I was your first kiss,” he declares.

I nod though he wasn’t looking for an answer, self-consciousness starting to take hold of my thoughts.

A smile breaks over his face. I weave my fingers through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, trying to ground myself with his presence, his weight, his heat. A rumble begins to build in his chest—a satisfied sound that sends my omega catapulting into delight, ready to please her alpha.

“Babydoll,” Bucky says, snapping my attention to him. He climbs on the bed slotting beside Steve. His hands brush stray strands of hair behind my ears as he gazes into my eyes. “Tells us what you want. We’re hanging on by a thread here.”

“I want everything,” I say keeping my gaze bouncing between the two of them. “Claim me, mark me, make me yours. Please.”

Bucky whimpers and leans forward, devouring me with his kiss. One hand cradles my face while the other weaves into the hair at the back of my neck, directing my head as he keeps dancing his fervent tongue against mine. My lips and tongue try their best to keep up with his, but I know they fumble sloppily in his kiss. My thoughts start to pull me away, overanalyzing and nitpicking my faults.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispers into my ear, “you have plenty of time to learn and we are so eager to teach you.”

Steve’s presses against my back, hands kneading my breasts, nipples tweaked between his fingers, as he starts slowly grinding his hips against me.

The hard column of his desire nestles against my ass and creates friction as he groans, “Just relax, let your alpha and beta take care of you.” Liquid heat pools at my core, collecting in my panties and dripping from me at his tone.

Bucky trails kisses from my lips toward my neck, sucking a mark into my scent gland and muttering in Russian—does he know how _sexy_ that is?

My hands thread through the long strands of his hair, tugging lightly. Bucky groans in response, hips rutting against me, and my core clenches. Their scents swirl around me, laced with honeyed lust.

Steve’s hands drift down to grip my hips and pull me back to him. His fingers press into my skin, creating a rhythm between our bodies, rolling and clashing together as sensation builds. A moan bubbles past my lips and I shove my head into the pillow.

Bucky’s hand circles my throat and forces my gaze toward him, “Don’t you dare.” His eyes flash and his fingers press faintly. A shiver runs down my spine, eyes wide with surprise—but this is Bucky, I trust him. “I want to hear every single sound.”

I nod as he releases the pressure on my neck. He smiles and kisses my cheek.

Bucky’s gaze lowers down my body as he scoots down the bed—pressing kisses to my exposed skin as he goes, stopping at various intervals to suck red marks onto my flesh. My gaze follows him, scrambling to make sense of the new development, never wanting him to stop.

But Steve tilts my head to capture my lips as his hand finds its way between my thighs, thus completely taking center stage in my mind. He hooks one of my legs over his hip and Bucky’s hands find their way beneath the waistband of my underwear, lowering them down my legs.

I shift as the simple cotton clings to my folds, soaked with my arousal. Steve unclasps my bra and tosses it away without breaking our kiss. He licks into my mouth and tangles our tongues together, tasting just as sweet as the first cup of coffee in the morning. Bucky’s hands return to my hips, thumbs caressing the bone and fingers pulsing on my skin.

“Such a pretty, pink pussy,” Bucky huffs with breathy desire before burying his face at the apex of my thighs.

A choked moan trills out of my lips as I try to decipher the sensation swirling through me. Bucky’s tongue swipes through my folds, switching between prodding my opening and sucking on the bundle of nerves that rockets me toward nirvana. He grunts and moans against me, the vibrations tingling through my core. One of my hands grips at his hair—pushing him away or pulling him closer, I can’t tell.

Steve heaves a breathy chuckle and leans over my shoulder to instruct Bucky, “Don’t get too distracted, we’ve got to get her ready.” His hand combs through his mate’s hair once before moving back to its previous task of roaming my skin.

Bucky growls against me, but I feel one of his hands drifting up my thigh, slipping through the slickness that coats them near my center. He shifts his position and begins suckling my clit as a finger presses into me.

I tense at the intrusion. Steve coos at me to relax before pulling me into another kiss, his fingers playing with the pebbled buds of my nipples. I draw a deep breath into my lungs and sigh as Bucky continues his ministrations. Pressure builds and coils deep within as Bucky plays my body like a familiar instrument and adds a second finger.

“H-how are you so—so good at this?” I ask breaking away from Steve’s kiss, my breasts heaving with each panting breath.

Climbing higher and higher, Bucky does not relent in his attention. My hips undulate with Steve’s grinding and the push and pull of Bucky’s fingers—chasing the feeling rising like the tide.

I cry out as pleasure pulses through me, “All the gods, you’re trying to kill me.”

My thighs tremble and I try to pull away. Steve’s arm wraps around my middle, locking me in place. A repetitive plea murmurs from my lips as I look down and lock eyes with Bucky.

With his lips sucking my clit, the coils snaps, unwinding in a rapturous explosion. A moaning cry bursts out of my mouth as I break apart. I arch back before jolting forward, curling over the beta between my thighs and pressing into Steve’s strong forearm.

Bucky draws away slowly, his fingers and mouth soothing me down from my high. My body shakes as it dispels the rush of orgasm through my veins. Steve inhales deeply at my neck, nipping at my gland, arms starting to press me closer like bands of iron.

My hands reach out for Bucky, wanting him close and crushed against me. He grips my hands in his, lacing our fingers together. I pull him forward, angling for a kiss. His lips and chin glisten with my slick.

One of Steve’s hands release me and grasp Bucky’s hair, dragging him down to his mouth. Their lips clash, Steve’s tongue lapping at the wetness on his mate’s chin.

I close my eyes and gulp down great lungfuls of air. A sleepy sensation tugs at the corners of my mind. Grunts and moans echo around me as Steve and Bucky kiss. A chorus that plucks at the thread of desire that simmers through me still, whilst also calming me like a lullaby.

“Don’t fall asleep on us quite yet,” Steve murmurs.

My eyes flutter open, a smile gracing my lips as I nod. Bucky captures my mouth, kissing me deeply. He tastes of Steve and a slight musk lingers on his tongue. I draw back when I realize the taste is my own flavor.

“Are you ready for me, omega?” Steve asks.

My attention turns to the alpha behind me. I nod and press a kiss to his cheek, dazed excitement sparkling through my veins. A deep breath fills my lungs as I feel him shuffle, pushing his briefs down his legs. I reach forward, pressing my hands against Bucky’s chest, scrambling for something to grab. His fingers intertwine with mine.

Steve shifts and prods at my entrance, the wide head of his member starting to stretch me. I continue to take deep breaths, relaxing as I feel him begin to push into me despite the small twinges of discomfort. At the first sign of my body tensing, his arm reaches around me, pulling my leg wider over his hip and searching for my clit. He slicks his fingers in my arousal and begins circling my bundle of nerves to distract me. Jolts of pleasure zing through my body as his fingers keep playing with my nub. His cock continues to spear into me, rocking back and forth to press deeper until I swear I can feel him in my lungs. Steve’s movements pause as he seats himself completely inside me—giving my body time to adjust.

Bucky pulls on my hands, drawing my attention. He releases me and draws me back into his kiss. My body shifts, feeling the tug of Steve’s cock spark ecstasy. I gasp into Bucky’s mouth.

Steve hisses before thrusting once, grinding into me. My eyelids flutter as the friction drags against my tight walls. I rock back, seeking more, needing more. A whimper bubbles in my throat, my omega pleading for Steve to move.

The alpha complies, an answering purr rumbling in his chest. He begins thrusting, a rolling movement that rocks my body. Steve’s fingers dig into my hips as he shows me how to move—a delicious motion—pleasure coiling once more. Steve draws back further, thrusting sharply into me. I gasp again and arch back, breaking my mouth away from Bucky’s.

A moan from the beta in front of me catches my attention. His hips gyrate, rutting against my thigh as his eyes stay locked on the place where Steve and I are joined. His mouth sits open, breath brushing over his lips in pants. My hands reach out to trace the planes of Bucky’s torso, fingers pressing into muscles and sliding steadily downward. They reach the waistband of his boxers and I pause.

Bucky’s eyes close and his body leans closer. His tongue wets his lips, “Please, babydoll, touch me.”

My hands push on the elastic, freeing his cock as Steve makes a sudden powerful thrust that pushes me forward. I rest my head on Bucky’s chest with a shuddering breath.

Bucky is a warm, heavy weight in my hand. My eyes gaze down and take in the shape of him. My eyes and fingers sync together, tracing the veins that line his member. Bucky ruts into my palm, beads of precum forming on his tip. My fingers run over him, taking the slickness to help ease each pass over the velvety skin of his hard cock. I hum and my core clenches around Steve at the vision that Bucky becomes when lost in the haze of his desire.

“How’d I get so lucky?” Steve asks, punctuating every word with a thrust and slow grind. “The prettiest beta and omega in the world, all mine.”

Intoxicated with the musky scent of them, my mind feels full of cotton balls as my body takes over. Every thrust of Steve’s cock is met with a roll of my hips and every push from Bucky is met with my own pull. My breath pants from my lungs as sweat beads on my forehead. The coil tightens in my core, drunk on them, on the pleasure, on the chase for that blissful climax.

I’m drawn higher and higher until Bucky grunts and clutches my wrist, figure stilling as he spills over my hand and thigh. The warm stickiness punches my senses with his scent—so much so that I taste the saltiness of his cum on my tongue. But it’s his eyes, shiny and full of adoration, along with Steve’s own grunts in my ear, throaty and enraptured, that drag me right to the precipice.

What pushes me over the edge is Steve and Bucky leaning forward, angling their faces into my neck and biting down on my scent glands, breaking the skin and bonding me to them.

I am thrown headlong into my orgasm, clenching around Steve’s cock and keening until my voice cracks. Steve’s hips thrust faster, harder as he chases his release before spilling inside me, painting me and branding me with his cum.

We stay connected on the bed, breathing heavily as we each come down. Steve and Bucky take the time to soothe me, licking their marks until they’re satisfied.

I close my eyes, the sensations in my body clashing and overwhelming—they broke me, completely and utterly destroyed me, if I ever get control over my legs again I’ll be surprised. All I want to do is shut off my mind and drift on the happy feeling of fulfillment that bubbles up inside me.

But then Bucky—against all common sense—disengages from our tangle of warm limbs and _walks away_.

A sad cry leaves my lips. An ache tugs at my heart and threatens to drown me. Steve’s arms wrap around me and he shushes me, pressing kisses to my cheeks and temple.

“We want to get you into a warm bath to clean up and help with your muscles,” he explains. “Bucky will be back in a second, I promise omega.”

I nod my head, understanding completely, but that doesn’t stop the sad whimpers that reverberate in my throat.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His hands rub me in an attempt to soothe the rapidly swelling despair.

I turn carefully with Steve’s help, feeling his softening member slip from within me, and curl against his chest while his arms wrap around me. The bed dips behind me and another pair of arms find their way to draw me close.

Bucky croons, “I’m right here, babydoll. I’m not leaving you, ever.”

I nod against Steve’s chest and try to press closer to my alpha—holy shit, Steve is my _alpha_. Bucky’s arms move underneath me and scoop me up from the bed. I yelp, the sound surprising even me as Bucky—my beta, _mine_ —carries me to the adjoining bathroom.

He places me on the counter as Steve walks in behind us, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a serene expression on his face.

Bucky checks the water before picking me up again, stepping into the tub—how on earth did they find a tub so _big_ —and sitting down. Steve’s chest rumbles with happiness as he steps in behind Bucky and I, drawing us both back into his chest as he sits. Our legs stretch out before us, twisting together. Bucky’s shoulder presses against mine and his hand links our fingers under the water.

Steve and Bucky sigh and relax. They take the time to wash me, their hands gliding over my form and cleaning away the lingering slickness and stickiness. I wince when Bucky’s hand runs over my folds, slightly sore but not too much in pain.

When the water turns cold, they pull me out of the tub, drying my skin and leading me back to their bed. They lay me down and tuck me under the covers, slipping in beside me.

They wrap me in their arms, Steve reaching over me to pull Bucky closer and rest his hand on his beta’s hip. I melt against them, boneless from exhaustion and euphoria—so _this_ is what I’ve been missing. I drift easily into slumber, mind blank, body sated, and full of sweet nothings whispered into my ears.

*

The sun glints in my eyes, breaking through the haze of sleep and waking up my senses. I crinkle my nose and bury my head further into my pillow, the musky scent of rain spattered leather drawing me back toward unconsciousness. But then I hear a rustling, like papers being stacked together.

I peek an irritated eye open, scanning my surroundings and land on Steve. He sits in a plush chair, moved to sit closer to the foot of the bed—their bed, oh my god—and flips the page of a sketchbook, pencil tucked behind his ear.

“What are you doing?” I mumble with a petulant huff.

Steve’s eyes, bright from joy and the morning light, turn to me as he smooths out his paper.

“Drawing a pair of cuddle bugs in their natural habitat,” he quips.

He pulls the pencil from behind his ear and starts sketching, the scratch a soothing sound that blankets me in a wave of nostalgia. How long had it been since I had seen the alpha sketching? Too damn long.

“How are you feeling?” my alpha asks.

“So much better than before, no pain and I can hardly feel the static buzz under my skin,” I reply, hope glistening in my eyes. “Thank you so much for helping me. But are you sure you want to be bonded to me.”

Steve chuckles, “It’s a bit too late now. Besides I’ve never been more sure of anything aside from Bucky.”

I look down at my pillow—rather, Bucky’s chest—and snuggle closer, warm joy radiating through my veins. Bucky shifts in his sleep, wrapping his arms tighter around me and pulling me down from my position propped over him. One of his hands drifts down my body, grabbing my ass and squeezing. I jump in surprise before relaxing back down into him and resting my head in the crook of his neck.

“You’re too far away,” I mutter reaching out a free hand in Steve’s direction. “Come here.”

He keeps sketching for a moment, until a growl—quite a pathetic one, really, nowhere near actual anger—rumbles in my throat. Bucky tenses around me before he sleepily begins rubbing his hand up and down my back.

Steve sighs and stands. He puts his book down, sliding the pencil through the spiral binding. He climbs onto the bed, wrapping an arm around my waist and snuggling close. I close my eyes, the scents I have always loved above all others blanketing me, and enjoy the feeling of my mates—holy fucking hell, saints alive, _my mates_ —surrounding me.

“I love you both,” I whisper, kissing Bucky’s pec and peeking at Steve. Tears well in my eyes, an inexplicable fear of the whole night being a dream assaulting me.

Steve, flexing his almost psychic ability, hushes my spinning thought saying, “You don’t have to worry, we’re not going anywhere.” His grip tightens around me, grounding me in the moment. “Right, Buck?”

Bucky’s head shakes as he nuzzles into the tender mark on my neck, his voice thick with sleep, “Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I know it’s long for a one shot, but I couldn’t figure out where to break it into two.
> 
> I hope I did well for my first foray into the MCU, ABO, and smut. If you enjoyed it, leave a kudos and maybe a comment? I would really love to hear you feedback!


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